Silence
by Necratoholic
Summary: Many say silence is a golden.Taichi Yagami thinks differently.But with the help of Yamato Ishida,he learns,little by little,that he doesn't need a voice to say those three precious words:I love you.And that's when his world starts to change.Yamachi


Prologue: I Wish

_Everyone has something unique to them. Eye colour, hair colour, body shape, skin tone, laugh...voice. In fact, I think the most unique thing about a person is their voice. Out of millions of other people your voice is one of a kind. Even if someone were to look like you, an exact copy, they still wouldn't sound like you. A smile is the most beautiful thing about a person but a voice is the most unique. I can tell who someone is just by their voice. Even if I close my eyes I can pinpoint who exactly is talking as long as I've heard their voice once before. It makes me wonder. What would my voice sound like? Would I be able the know who i was if I uttered a single syllable? What would everyone else's reaction be to my voice? Especially since they're so use to my silence? Sometimes, I dream that I can talk, laugh, and sing beautiful words that promise me that when I wake up, I'll be able to do the things i want to do more then anything. But when I awake, I realize that it's my dementia whispering in my ear when I open my mouth and try to speak. Maybe, if I keep dreaming, a beautiful melody will flow to me and I'll be able to sing. But then, that leads me to another question. If I were given the chance to have a voice, would I take it?_

~oOooOooOo**S**oOooOooOo**I**oOooOooOo**L**oOooOooOo**E**oOooOooOo**N**oOooOooOo**T**oOooOooOo**W**oOooOooOo**I**oOooOooOo**S**oOooOooOo**H**oOooOooOo~

The old house stood firmly in front of him, it's very architecture slightly imposing. Unlike the other houses on the lane, which were purely Victorian architecture and nothing more, nothing less, his own three story house had a more Gothic tint to it. The arch above their double wide, yet still painfully thin doors, was sharp and crude, ending in a fine point, the glass set in the design of a Gothic sun made from black and white stain glass. Windows, so numerous he wasn't sure if he could count them all, were tall and regal, thin , and decorated at the top with the same design that blessed the door. A wrap around porch, starting from either side of the entrance stairs, circled for a few numerous yards, a wrought iron framed wicker swing hanging on the left side, chairs and a tables of the same design on the reached toward the sky, their tops ending in a sharp, invisible point, smaller windows following a circular house, Nightingale Daydream, if he remember correctly from the sales women's babbling, was ancient, dating back to the 1800's. And, personally, he thought it showed. The paint was slightly worn from the constant pounding of sea wind, the dull green starting to appear white, the once vibrant poppy red was washed out, almost the colour of dried blood. He didn't want to think about what the inside looked like.

However, when this particular house had gone on the market, his parents were more the ecstatic about the old manor, especially since it was located on a coastal strip on Moonview Island. Honestly, he preferred the constant noise of the city. It drowned everything else out and allowed you to feel other peoples feelings. Hatred, impatience, frustration, all the emotions would just swarm you in such a place. And while other people found it annoying, he found it relaxing. When he focused on other peoples emotions he could forget his own, or, if he couldn't take the overbearingness of holding in so many thoughts while taking in new ones, he pluck his bulky earphones from around his neck adn suddenly, the world would be tuned out.

He didn't have that luxury here. It was quiet enough that his headphones weren't needed if he wanted some solitude. He didn't like it. This foreienty.

But his parent had felt that this house was calling to them. He couldn't see why. Reaching his long fingered hands to his neck, he grasped the circular ends of his prized head phones and raised them to his ears, ready to block out what he couldn't.

" Taichi, " Someone interrupted his sanctuary, soft spoken and warm.

Pausing in his quest to block out the noise, he turned his head slightly so he could see his mother, Yuuko, standing behind him, looking at him with concern. He didn't know why. Really, all he was doing was placing his headphones on his ears. Wasn't that what they were for? Non the less, he replaced them upon his shoulders and gave his mother his undying attention, golden brown orbs gazing into her own lighter ones in questions.

Yuuko Yagami, stood behind their silver SUV, a large box cradled in her arms, it making her appear even smaller then she actually was. Incredibly thin with mid back length chestnut hair and dressed in a simple white sundress, she seemed in place with the moving van and empty house. At least, he thought, much more then I do. " Why don't you go scout out which room you want? " She smiled her motherly smile, the one that made kids want to do what they asked, holding out the flimsy, brown box to him. Sighing, he took it reluctantly, 'Memories' written in bold, cursive lettering on the side, and walked toward the large, lonely, manor.

The porch stairs creaked under his weight ( Did I really weight that much? He wondered ) as he ascended them, box weighing in his arms. The old, stripped boards groaned and rattled with each of his steps and, starting to get particularly annoyed, he balanced his cargo on his hip and turned the nob with the other. A rush of sea air and beams of light eagerly came to greet him.

The hall was a lot brighter then he had originally thought, a row of narrow, windows lining the area, a double door at the end, made from some light honey wood. Well, he thought, licking his suddenly dry lips. May as well get this over with.

He stepped inside, slamming the door shut with a shoe covered foot, the noise resounding endlessly. Walking forward, the wooden floor, whose boards looked like they could use a good sweeping and a healthy polish, made barely inaudible creaks, the house standing silent. The end doors were also opened with a hesitant hand and soon, Taichi found himself standing in the doorway to a large entrance, another sea breeze ruffling his messy locks. It was a circular room with two staircases, meeting above yet another door, the old steps carpeted in a beautiful yet heavily worn teal ocean colour, the floor layered in dust, the once white boards a musty grey from moisture and dust. Shifting the box to his other arm, he stepped over the threshold and closed the door, a little more softly then the last one, with a dull click.

Now, he said to himself, scanning his surroundings, the most probable place for the bedrooms would be upstairs. Most likely. With a sigh, he hefted the box up higher so it could rest, a little painfully, against his hip once more and he slowly ascended the staircase, being cautious to not touch the handrail. Upon reaching the second floor, he turned the knob on the third door he was to pass through and entered a hallway, less grand then the first, but much longer, doors adorning each side, a total number of nine. Do we really need this many rooms? He asked no one in particular, softly treading to the first door, finally starting on his quest for a room.

All the rooms were large and spacious, with plenty of room for furniture and belongings. But each one had something that made them different from one another and Taichi made sure to keep track of each difference so he could sort them all out later. The first one was the smallest of the nine, with three windows on one side of the wall and a walk in closet. The second one had a smaller room in the back, most likely for storage, the third had an adjacent bathroom, the fourth faced the front yard and he was given a few amusing scenes of his parents trying to unload the car while his father smiled brightly and his mother laughed, leaving him with a slight smile on his own face. The fifth and sixth ones were joined through a narrow hallway and he quickly dismissed them; he'd want his privacy if his parents chose one of the two. The eighth one was the the biggest room with built in bookcases lining the walls and a large single window placed between two oak shelves. Quickly realizing that this would be the perfect place for his father's study, he moved onto the last room though he quickly realized this one wouldn't do at all. From the door on the left, he realized this too was a connected room. Reaching the end of the hall, he grumbled to himself for a few minuets, wondering which room he could possibly have since he didn't like any of them.

Maybe Mum and Dad will allow me to sleep on the couch, he thought, glancing to the side, noticing a indent in the wall. What's this? He asked, trodding over to inspect the suspicious space. To his pleasant surprise, it was a small, impossibly thin staircase, though no less elegant then the main one, a runner running up the middle, the colour of the ocean, the wood a deep, rich oak. Wonder if there's any rooms up there, he pondered, stepping onto the first stair. The flight was long, twenty-six stairs in all, and there was no door at the top to stop him, so he walked on, aimlessly, coming to a small, circular landing, a hallway branching off to the left. Looking out the window as he passed, figuring his was on the right side, he walked down the hallway, noticing that there were only two doors on this particular floor. The first door led to a closet, rather sizable, just large enough to hold some cloths and a few boxes. Closing the door he moved onto the second one, on the other side of the hall, at the end. Placing his hand on the cool, handle, he pulled downward and pushed it open, entering a sizable and unique room.

It wasn't the largest of the rooms, in fact it was rather small. But it was the extras that made him fall in love with it. A double paned window opened up into the backyard and a few deca yards away, the ocean. The spectacular view made him smile longingly, especially since the window was graced with a curved window seat, soft cushions upon the surface. A ledge about halfway up showed a platform, a runged, wheeled ladder leading the way. I could put my bed there, he realized, setting the box down upon the ground, and I could place my books under it. I might even be able to have my own desk. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. Having his own room wasn't a big change for him, he had had his own back on the mainland too, but this one was better. Somehow.

Opening the door across from the future sight of his bed, he was met with the sight of a comfortable sized bathroom with it's bathtub, built into the ground no less, and it's own shower, off to the corner. It seemed to be designed to mimic the ocean as the tiny chandelier hanging from the ceiling had strand of pearls ( Wonder if they're real? ) hanging from it's silver fixture, shells in jars resting on as many surfaces as possible, the mirror framed with the waves of the ocean. Beaming, he shut the door, nearly skipping back into his- his! - room, standing the center, hands upon his curvy hips, lips arched in a full blown smile.

As he opened the window to allow the late breeze in, he sat on the ancient cushion and leaned his elbows on the windowsill. Maybe, he thought looking over the rolling currents, living here won't be so bad.

~oOooOooOo**S**oOooOooOo**I**oOooOooOo**L**oOooOooOo**E**oOooOooOo**N**oOooOooOo**T**oOooOooOo**W**oOooOooOo**I**oOooOooOo**S**oOooOooOo**H**oOooOooOo~

If I could speak I'd tell you how beautiful the ocean is.


End file.
